Hatred of Mondays – and January

You know it’s going to be a bad day when you have to put a hat on to get out of bed.

The temperature was well below zero outside when I got up Monday (I hate Mondays) morning. It had to be close to zero in my kitchen when I went downstairs, protected by a ski hat. I was so cold that I thought a door or window was open.

The furnace had decided to take an unscheduled winter nap and the wood stove just could not keep up. I fired up the wood stove (most of the wood is in a frozen ball in the driveway) then descended into the cellar to deal with the fire-breathing monster I call a furnace.

I hid behind the chimney while I pressed the restart button, fearing an explosion. There was no explosion, but the furnace started with an alarming amount of thick, black smoke that came out the pipes. That can’t be good.

I hate January.

I sent out an SOS to the oil company, put on the coffee and found that the hot water pipes had frozen. Some day, I want someone to explain to me why hot water (and pipes) freezes faster than cold water.

Of course the cellar windows have been out for decades and the holes have been plugged with plastic, which flaps noisily all winter. It is one of the many reasons I stay out of the cellar. My concession to winter is covering the outside of the windows with plywood.

It is a wonder the pipes don’t freeze every week.

The furnace dude finally arrived and did his ritual test of the machine, which included testing the spark he produced between the two connections. The arc was yellow. That was bad news, he explained. A good transformer will create a blue spark.

He could have told me that the arc should be a rainbow as long as he got the furnace going without the thick smoke.

He said the transformer, whatever that is, would run about $60 and left within a few magical minutes. I turned the thermostat up from its usual 62 degrees to 70 degrees to drive the cold out of the house.

I spent the rest of the morning with the hair dryer that has a permanent spot in the cellar. The hair dryer was aimed at the water pipes where they come perilously close to the flapping cellar window. The longer I used the hair drier, the more I promised to get some new cellar windows, at least before next year.

At least the pipes didn’t burst.

After an hour the hot water faucets started to pump some dark, cold liquid. After another 30 minutes some hot water actually came out.

While I waited for the hot water, I thought about the 60- and 70-degree temperatures in Tampa and Fort Myers, Fla. I thought about the Red Sox equipment truck leaving Fenway Park for Fort Myers in late February.

I thought about the season ticket I have for the Red Sox spring training games.

I thought about how much I hate January, when you have to put on a hat to get out of bed.

Send complaints and compliments to Emmet Meara at emmetmeara@msn.com.